The Paradise Prophecy

devil on its shoulder, damn the consequences.

And as things got worse, the faithful sent up their prayers, asking for protection and guidance.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to be listening.

The three dark angels watched it all from the boardroom of L4, which stood high above the Strip-one of the many branches they maintained around the world. The creation of a security company had been Moloch’s idea-

– L4 or Lucifer’s Four-

– which was about the extent of his creativity.

Moloch, the Lord of War-who was currently calling himself Vogler-stared at the street below, shaking his head in contempt. “Seed the crowd with few drudges and the lemmings follow. It’s amazing how predictable these creatures are.”

“Be thankful for that,” Mammon said. “As you well know, it hasn’t always been this easy.”

In this world, Mammon-the Lord of Greed-used his human name Radek.

They all preferred to use human names when dealing with humans.

All but Belial, that is.

They’d often told her that the goal was to blend in, which could hardly be accomplished with names so familiar to so many, thanks in large part to the poet, who had stolen their story. But Belial possessed an immeasurable amount of arrogance. Had chosen to inhabit this earth as a woman, of all things, so that told you all you needed to know about her.

Jonathan Beel, or Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies, said, “Don’t start celebrating quite yet. The moon is two days away, and while your efforts have been admirable, they’re no guarantee of success.”

“Always the naysayer, eh, Beelzebub?”

“Need I remind you of our record of failures? No matter what we throw at these creatures, no matter how we might tempt them, they always manage to survive.”

“Not this time,” Mammon said. “Moloch and I have planted these seeds all over the globe. What we’re witnessing here is only the beginning.”

“We shall see.”

“The point-as I seem to have to keep reminding you-is that this world has never been so corrupt, never been so full of weak-willed mortals who blame one another for their failures. I can’t remember a time when I’ve seen so many so willing to exploit the pain of others or kill over petty differences, or claim to worship their so-called father as they wallow in their own hypocrisy. We’ve harnessed enough tainted souls to do exactly what we need to do.”

“Nice speech,” Beelzebub said. “But it doesn’t change anything. Without the power of the Telum, we could well fall short.”

Mammon laughed, his voice laced with derision. “A few moments ago you were braying about Belial’s claim she may have found the sacred traveler. What happened to all that confidence? “

“The Telum is only half the battle, and you know it.”

“You surprise me, Beelzebub. For someone who’s so anxious to see the Master released from his cage, you seem awfully dependent on this fairy tale. Here Moloch and I give you concrete results, and Belial is still wasting her time with Michael’s little fan club, looking for something that may not even exist.”

“She found the girl, didn’t she?”

“Her brother found the girl, and she’s childish enough to think that actually means something. But Michael’s irrelevancy on this planet has never been so clearly defined.”

“I happen to agree with her,” Beelzebub said.

Mammon shook his head in disgust. “Miraculous weapons, singing souls … you two are as gullible as those fools who think the one we put on the cross was some kind of-”

“Enough,” Moloch said, moving toward them. “You two fight like schoolchildren. I thought we were past all of this nonsense.”

“I simply don’t like the idea of all of our hard work being discounted in favor of something that has yet to be proven,” Mammon said.

“No one is discounting anything,” Moloch told him. “But Beelzebub is right. Let’s not be so arrogant to believe that the game has already been won. Telum or no Telum, there’s still a lot of work to be done.”

“Hear, hear,” Beelzebub said.

“So why don’t we save the celebration for a night when we can all drink a toast with Lucifer?”

The other two nodded, then all three raised their hands.

“A posse ad esse.”

40

CHIANG MAI, THAILAND

Seven missing pages.

The key to the Telum. The sacred traveler.

In order to protect her, the guardians had to protect her secret-a secret that had been removed from the Codex Gigas centuries ago, only to fall into the hands of Galileo Galilei-if Brother Philip was to be believed.

The curse on those pages had driven Galileo blind. And Milton after him.

But if Milton had burned them for fear of what they might do, then how and why had they wound up in the manuscript for Paradise Lost?

And, for that matter, who or what exactly was the sacred traveler?

A wandering soul, Philip had said, but what was her purpose? It sounded as if Michael was the one in charge of finding her, but once he did, what did that mean?

Was she a weapon of some kind?

Two many questions, Batty thought. Too many unanswered fucking questions.

And with the fourth moon of the tetrad coming, what were the chances of answering those questions before it was too late? What were the chances of finding those pages-the key to whatever Michael was looking for-before the gates of hell sprang open and all of humanity was destroyed?

It wasn’t looking good.

It was looking even worse when they got back to the heart of Chiang Mai.

The streets were filled with angry protestors, police in riot gear trying to control the crowd with fire hoses and batons. But the police seemed overwhelmed, and it looked as if the crowd was winning.

“Jesus,” Callahan said. “It’s already started. Just like Philip warned us. It happened so fast.”

“He said it would.”

They found refuge in a bookstore, several blocks away from the action. The place was practically deserted, and the guy behind the register looked visibly nervous, as if he’d be all too happy to close up and get to the safety of his home.

The few customers who were in here didn’t seem to be all that interested in the books surrounding them. They huddled together on the sofa and chairs at the center of the room, fugitives from the chaos.

Batty and Callahan found a grouping of chairs in back and as they settled in, Callahan reached for her cell phone. “I need to call Section again. Get them to listen to me.”

“If they didn’t listen before, I doubt they’ll listen now. For whatever reason, they’re letting us handle this on our own. But where do we take it from here? We’re running out of guardians.”

“London,” Callahan said. “That’s all we’ve got left.”

“London was a pretty big place the last time I looked.”

“We start with Ozan’s e-mail. Go to the Internet cafe where it was downloaded, then work from there. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Batty didn’t have much faith in locating whoever had received the e-mail, but they had to try. Still, he wondered if there was another way to ferret out the truth about all this. There had to be some way to…